


Rage, Rage

by erik_lehnsherr



Series: The Fourteenth's Song [6]
Category: D.Gray Man
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 03:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erik_lehnsherr/pseuds/erik_lehnsherr
Summary: The lives the Noah family lead are not all fun and games.





	Rage, Rage

_Do not go gentle into that good night_

_Old age should burn and rave at close of day;_

_Rage, rage against the dying light_

_Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, by Dylan Thomas_

Allen really should have known what he was getting into when he, his younger brother, and his master, the Bookman, came to live at the Campbell estate. It was all fun and games at first – outwitting the devilish Neah Campbell and learning from his seemingly angelic twin brother Mana Campbell. It was hard to realize sometimes that Neah was a destroyer and a killer.

The Bookman apprentice woke up one morning, bleary eyed as he set out of his room fully dressed. It was storming outside, and Cross didn’t seem to appreciate it. Allen’s junior by three years sat on the window chair in the main room, glowering at the falling precipitation. Shaking his head, Allen entered the kitchen, spotting his master and Mana. Bookman was at the table, nursing a cup of hot tea while looking over several different newspapers, while Mana washed dishes.

Allen was about to speak his morning greeting when he noticed the state Mana was in – the usually bright young man was downcast, heavy circles under his eyes, and his silky hair in disarray. He was purposely ignoring Bookman, when, more often than not, the two would be making intellectual conversation. Bookman lifted his eyes some, connecting with Allen’s eyes, and Allen got the message: _don’t bother Mana_.

Sliding a seat out from under the table, Allen sat down, and instead spoke to his master, “Anything in the news today?”

Bookman seemed relieved Allen understood his unspoken order, and replied, his deep, gravelly voice floating through the acoustically designed room, “Nothing as of yet. The world is at peace.”

There was a crash behind Allen, and master and Junior alike turned their attention to Mana, who was holding his bleeding hand, tears running down his face. A broken dish seemed to be the culprit in his injury.

“Mana,” Allen started, but the elder Campbell wouldn’t hear it, leaving the room while blood dripped onto the floor. A few moments later, Allen and Bookman could hear Mana tell someone, probably Cross, to leave him alone, then the foot stomps as he went to his room. Cross entered the kitchen, confusion set on his features, “Did I do something wrong?”

Bookman smoothed out one of the newspaper, speaking to his two young charges, “I fear Mana is worried about Neah.” When answered with blank looks, the old man shook his head, “You didn’t even notice he was absent? Shame on both of you. He left earlier this morning, saying his uncle needed him for some important mission. Mana has been off ever since.”

Allen felt a certain type of embarrassment come over him – he _didn’t_ notice Neah wasn’t home. He wonders how, after about two months of living here, and getting used to the sight of the younger Campbell twin going about his day. It wasn’t like Neah was a quiet individual, constantly filling the large house with his particular brand of noises.

Cross scowled some, taking a seat next to Allen, “So Mana is going to be in a bad mood for the entire time? Damn.” He bowed his head down, his fiery red hair creating a curtain over his face, which was most certainly twisted with worry over the one who has seemed to stolen his heart. Allen looked back at the Bookman, “So what do we do if Neah isn’t here, and Mana is locked in his room?”

“Nothing,” Bookman answered. “There is nothing we can do.” He then got up, folding the newspapers up neatly and shoving them under his arm, “Now, if you excuse me, I shall go to the main house.”

Allen perked up, “Can I come too, Master?”

“No. You and Cross get to do damage control here.”

The Bookman-in-training huffed, resting his head against the table, his brunette hair spreading out across the fine wood, “We can do that.”

Bookman nodded, then walked out of the kitchen. Brothers Marian heard him open the door, but the door didn’t close. Instead, they heard the frantic yelling of a woman, and the two exchanged a look before running into the welcoming room. Mana was at the top of the stairs, almost falling over the railing, “Mother!”

Katerina Campbell was as beautiful as Neah and Mana claimed, with her long, silky brown hair reminiscent of Mana’s, and pearly smooth skin that hosted deep blue eyes. However, her face was contorted in panic as she grabbed the Bookman’s sleeves, making him drop his newspapers into the water gathering at the door, “Please! Help Neah! He’s hurt!”

A sense of dread fell over the room as Mana clambered down the stairs. Bookman replied to the frantic woman, “Lead me to him.” Of course, Cross and Allen weren’t to be left, so they grabbed their coats and followed Bookman and the Campbells into the waiting carriage. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, but not even the discomfort could free them from the terror that Katerina’s words brought on them. She said, tears gathering in her eyes, “Neah was injured in battle by an exorcist. Cyrus fears his wounds might kill him.”

Mana gasped, his face mimicking his mother’s, and Allen’s clasped hands shook with the mere thought of losing Neah. He wasn’t sure why, but even the notion of being without the younger man made Allen feel sick.

They made it to the main house, and Bookman shoved his way through Akuma and Noah alike to see Neah lying on Cyrus’ bed, blood seeping into the sheets. Mana and Katerina followed, Mana immediately going to his brother’s side, “Neah!” Allen and Cross watched from the crowd, unsure of their position in all of this.

Neah had a long, jagged cut reaching from his shoulder to the top of his opposite leg, and many other deep cuts and bruises littered his body. Bookman started his strange treatment, and although Allen didn’t want to look at it at all, he had to. He had to observe the death of Neah Campbell for the records.

After an hour of deep silence, Bookman cursed as a misstep caused more blood to cascade out of the young body it was supposed to be staying in. There was a gasp from beside Allen, and he didn’t have to look to know Road was attached to Cross, watching her favorite person bleed out to death. Allen couldn’t look away as he watched the color fade from Neah’s dark skin, or the life from his barely open golden eyes. Mana and Katerina were holding onto Neah, as if to prevent Death from pulling him away from them.

“Do not go gentle into that good night!”

The call broke the silence, and most of the audience turned to see Allen, breathing heavily and tears gathered in his eyes as he continued screaming at the boy he has started to consider a friend, “Old age should burn and rave at close of day!”

Cyrus snapped, “Quiet, boy,” but Allen soldiered on, “Rage, rage against that dying light! Rage, Neah! I know you can do it!” Two Akuma guards grabbed Allen’s arms and threw him out of the room, leaving him wheezing for air through the tears that marred his face.

Allen wasn’t sure how much time passed before the door opened again, and the young man looked up, his face a mess and his glasses abandoned on the floor. Cross stood there, a solemn look on his face, which only made Allen tear up more. Neah died, that stupid son of a bitch. He died!

He was drawn out of his grief by Cross saying glumly, “I haven’t even said anything and you’re crying. I was going to say that Neah is going to live, you idiot.”

The older brother stared at his younger brother, and new tears arose, although these were not those of sadness, but happiness.

* * *

 

Elsewhere, a woman overlooked the recent battlefield. They lost many Finders, and three exorcists, but they landed a killing blow on one of their enemies. She should be rejoicing at the death of another evil doer, but all she could muster was tears. They streaked down her face as she drew up a violin, the bow sliding across the strings, and singing out a poignant song of long childhoods and sorrow at the death of someone she once considered a friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know that the poem Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night technically doesn't fit the timeline for that came out in the 20th century and this series takes place in the 1860s, but I had it finished by the time I realized it, so my bad.


End file.
